He's quiet for a long moment. "And who are we?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we haven't said. Everything I'm not sure he wants to hear.
"We're two people who connected," I say finally. "Who found something real in the middle of all this manufactured drama. And we're not going to let anyone else define that for us."
"You want to livestream us baking."
"I want to livestream us being human. Well, human and orc." I grin. "Think you can handle working with modern appliances?"
For the first time since the confrontation with Webb, his mouth quirks upward. "I've mastered the dishwasher."
"Let's see how you do with a stand mixer."
Thirty minutes later, we're set up in the main kitchen with my phone propped against a flour canister and a makeshift ring light borrowed from the camera crew. I've raided the pantry for ingredients, settling on my grandmother's recipe for honey wheat bread—something comforting and unpretentious.
"Ready?" I ask.
Korgan nods, though he looks like he's preparing for battle rather than baking. Which, considering the comment section, might not be far off.
I hit the live button and watch the viewer count climb. Within minutes, we have over a thousand people watching.
"Hi everyone." I wave at the camera. "I'm Trinity Lewis, and this is Korgan. You might have seen us in a certain video that's been making the rounds today."
The comments start flooding in immediately. Some supportive, many not. I force myself to ignore them and focus on the camera.
"People have been saying a lot of things about us, about orcs, about human-orc relationships. So we thought we'd take a few minutes to show you who we really are, instead of letting other people tell you who they think we are."
I gesture to the ingredients spread across the counter. "We're going to make honey wheat bread. It's one of my favorites, and it's something I think most people can appreciate regardless of species."
Korgan clears his throat. "I should probably mention that I know nothing about baking."
"That's okay. I'm a good teacher." I catch his eye and smile. "And you're a good student."
The comment section explodes with reactions, some crude, some encouraging. I see Maya's username pop up with a stream of heart emojis, which helps steady my nerves.
"So, first things first." I hold up a bag of flour. "Korgan, want to measure out three cups of bread flour for me?"
He approaches the task with military precision, carefully leveling each cup with a knife. It takes him twice as long as it should, but his thoroughness makes me smile.
"Very good. Now we need to add that to our mixing bowl." I gesture toward the stand mixer, which he's been eyeing with suspicion since we started.
"How do I..." He pokes at the bowl attachment.
"Here, let me show you." I move closer, guiding his hands to position the bowl correctly. "You just twist it into place like this."
The casual contact sends warmth through me, and I catch him watching my face instead of my hands. For a moment, I forget about the hundreds of people watching us and just enjoy being close to him again.
"Got it," he says softly.
I clear my throat and step back. "Great. Now we need to add our yeast, honey, and warm water."
As we work, something magical happens. The comments start shifting. People notice how gentle Korgan is with the delicate measurements, how he listens carefully to myinstructions, how he smiles when I tease him about his heavy-handed salt measurement.
"You're very precise," I observe as he carefully dissolves the yeast.
"Orc military training," he replies. "Attention to detail keeps people alive."
"Is that why you're so good at following directions?"
